I wake in the morning, feeling incredible. My body is tangled up in the sheets, my heart is light, and the fire between my legs, while it has eased, reminds me that I experienced some of the greatest pleasure of my life last night. I roll over, glancing at the clock beside the bed. It’s ten in the morning. I got a decent sleep, which is great. I needed it. I wonder how Maverick got out of the building unnoticed.

Hell, I wonder how he got into the building unnoticed?

A knock sounds at my door, somewhat furious, and I blink. It wouldn’t be Amalie, because there is no way she’d knock like that, so it must be Susan. My heart jumps into my throat and I stand up, throwing my legs over the side of the bed. Did she find out I have been sneaking out? I swallow and walk over to the door after pulling on some clothes and trying to make my bed look like I didn’t rip the sheets up in pleasure last night.

I open the door, and I’m right. Susan is standing on the other side, looking furious.

Shit.

“Let me in.”

It isn’t an order, it’s a demand.

I push the door open and she comes inside, walking in, stopping, and then spinning around. She’s angry. I just don’t know yet what she’s angry over. I would bet anything that the security guards told on me. Which, they do have every right to do considering they get paid to look out for me. I can’t blame them. I feel instant guilt thinking that I tried to blackmail them to keep them quiet.

That was sucky of me. So, I will cop it, if that’s what Susan is here about.

I brace myself for it.

“Who is the biker?”

I blink.

Maverick?

She’s talking about Maverick?

How in the hell would she know about Maverick? Not even the security guards know about Maverick. They know I snuck out, they know I got past them, but they don’t know what for. Amalie wouldn’t tell, and the only other person who knows about him is Isaac, but Isaac hates Susan, so I don’t know why he’d rat me out.

“Wha—” I start to say, but she throws a hand up.

“The one that’s been following you, the one you’ve been sneaking out to see, the one you’re risking your entire career for. Who. Is. He?”

How. The. Hell?

There is no way she should know this much.

My heart leaps into my chest.

“How do you know about Ma ... him.”

I’m not telling her his name. No way in hell.

“How I found out is really none of your concern, what is my concern is what in the hell you’re thinking.”

I stare at her. “I’m allowed a life, Susan. Hell, I’m allowed friends. I don’t actually have to explain every action to you. Last time I checked, I was a human being and dammit if I’m going to live my life in a hotel room and a stage. I should be allowed to go out. I should be allowed to have friends.”

“You’re on tour, Scarlett. Not to mention you could possibly be in danger. You don’t get to choose what you do and do not do.”

“That’s the damned problem,” I snap. “I should be able to choose. If I put my life in danger by going out there, that’s on me. I’m so sick of hiding.”

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Susan says, disgusted. “You’re the face of country music, if something happens to you ...”

“Yeah, the world will be disappointed and you’ll have no job.”

Her mouth drops open.

I know I’m being a bitch, I know it, but I’m tired. I’m tired of not having a life. I just want to do the simple things again. Like the day at the lake with Maverick where for a while I was just a normal person again. I was just Scarlett, there with a man she liked, having fun without a care in the world.

“You don’t appreciate your career at all, do you?”

“I do,” I yell, losing it, frustration and sadness taking over. “I’ve given the last, what, nearly five years of my life to this career? I haven’t stopped, Susan. I haven’t had a break. I have forgotten how it feels to breathe, and he lets me have that. I shouldn’t have to spend my life behind closed doors or on a stage. I should be able to enjoy it. He can keep me safe when I’m out there.”

“He is a biker!” she screams, and I flinch.

Susan never loses it, but right now, she’s losing it.

“So, what?” I bellow back. “So, what?”

“How naïve are you, Scarlett? He’s a biker. Bikers aren’t safe. They’re criminals. He’s likely only in it for a bit of action with someone famous. You’re risking everything, for the scum of the Earth.”

Her words light a fire—a god damned fire—inside me. Maverick is anything but the scum of the earth. He might be a biker, but that does not mean he is some dirty, drug dealing thug. I won’t have it. My breaking point has been reached, and dammit, do I unleash.

“How. Dare. You,” I hiss, glaring at her. “That man has protected me, because nobody else fucking believed me. Not you. Not anyone.”

“I put security on extra watch, what more do you want?”

“What I want is to stop living in this fucking prison. He’s been at every show, doing a far better job than those pathetic men outside you call security. I’ve snuck past them more than once, and you know what? They haven’t noticed. It was that easy. And you’re trying to tell me they are on extra protection? That they care what happens to me? That you’re taking me seriously? No. If you were, they would have been at my door every single time I’m in this room, not in a lobby, distracted by the hot ass that’s walking in, instead of watching out for trouble.”

Her face goes slack.

I’m panting with rage.

“You will not see that man again. He will be banned from every show. And security will be glued to your damned side 24/7.”

I blink.

No.

Hell no.

“You don’t get to run my life like that, Susan. You do not get to. I am a grown woman, if I want to go out, date someone, and enjoy my life, I can. There is absolutely nothing in the world that can hold me back from that any longer, not even you.”

“You have a reputation,” she screams. “How will the media take it when they see you on the back of a bike? Imagine the stories that will be unleashed if they find out you’re slumming it with criminals.”

Jesus.

She has no idea.

None.

“You mean like Trey?” I snap, and her face goes white. “He was a criminal, biggest of them all, but you didn’t seem to care what the media thought of him.”

“We didn’t know.”

“Every story under the sun was spun about him, every story. The media will make up whatever they want. You know that. It won’t matter what man I’m with. Hell, Trey was a member of the mafia, he was an undercover cop, he was my bodyguard and we were having a saucy affair, the media came up with a million different stories, and they will again. It’s not enough to put my entire life on hold.”

“This could ruin you, Scarlett. Because he is a biker, he isn’t just ‘assumed’ to be, which means the stories will be worse, they will have a much larger affect.”

“I don’t care.”

She stares at me. “What is wrong with you?”

“I want to live my life, and I won’t hold back a single second more.”

She starts shaking her head. “You won’t. You’re going to stay in this room until tonight, and then you’re going to be escorted home after the show.”

“You don’t get to do that,” I growl.

“Watch me,” she says, her voice icy. “I dare you to cross me, Scarlett. I have the ways and means to get you to do what I want, so I suggest you do it without argument, because I really don’t want to have to use them. Do not leave this hotel before your show tonight.”

Then she turns and storms out, leaving me standing, staring, mouth agape.

I don’t know if what she’s saying is true or if she’s just throwing threats around. I don’t know if there is something in one of the many contracts I’m under that says I have to abide by such rules when I’m on tour. I’ve signed so many in the last five years, they’ve all blurred together and I don’t recall any specific parts.

Either way, right now I’m too angry to do anything but sit here and brood.

So, that’s what I do.

Damn her.

Damn all of this.